


A Work of Art

by queenhomeslice



Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art Museum, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, Disaster gay Prompto Argentum, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Dates, Museum Curator Ignis Scientia, Museums, Pick-Up Lines, Promptis (Background), Smooth Ignis Scientia, Vaginal Sex, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: Ignis is a museum curator with an eye for art--and beauty.
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Reader, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686343
Comments: 52
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.  
> ____
> 
> I guess partly inspired by this tumblr post: https://northerntrash.tumblr.com/post/120037005803/myrishswamp-michacl-im-at-a-museum-right 
> 
> Listen, I know jack shit about art so just humor me in this okay

Ignis’ assistant sets his large cup of Ebony cold brew on his desk, along with a brown paper bag that’s full of his daily ham-and-gruyere croissant. The museum curator peers up through his silver rimmed glasses, eyes already a little tired from reading his morning emails, and smiles at the chipper blond. 

“Thank you, Prompto,” he murmurs, reaching for the unopened straw that Prompto had placed on top of the plastic lid. 

“Your welcome, Iggy!” he says brightly, giving Ignis a wide smile. Prompto goes to his small desk that’s adjacent from Ignis’ own and takes off his leather jacket, setting his messenger bag on his desk and pulling out his laptop. “Um, so today is the opening of the new Renoir exhibit, yeah?” Prompto pulls out his state-of-the-art Lokton. “Want me to go get pictures while we’re still locked up?” 

“Yes, if you please,” says Ignis, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of his coffee. He moans softly after the liquid caffeine hits his tongue. 

“Iggy,” laughs Prompto, blushing slightly. “Why do you gotta be so sexy, even when you do the most mundane of things?” 

Ignis snorts and shakes his head, clicking over to his calendar. The press is due at the new exhibit at ten am sharp—two of Insomnia’s most lucrative newspapers, _Fine Arts Monthly_ , and various other digital media companies with blogs dedicated to hip new things to do in the city. “Surely I’m not ‘sexy’ whilst drinking coffee, Prompto.” 

“Dude,” says Prompto, checking that his battery is charged, flicking his blue eyes up to Ignis. “You really don’t know how hot you are, huh?” 

Ignis chuckles. “Careful, Prompto. Wouldn’t want Noctis to find out that you think I’m attractive, now would you?” Noctis is Prompto’s boyfriend, and Twitch-streamer _royalty_. Every game magazine from Insomnia to Lestallum has featured the so-called “Prince of Video Games” either on the cover or in at least one feature article for the past three years. Ignis thinks they’re quite adorable together, really. Prompto likes video games as well, but he’d gone to art school, and is a wizard with his camera—the third floor of the museum is home to a local artist gallery, where Prompto has several award-winning photos on display. Ignis couldn’t be prouder of his plucky assistant. 

Prompto laughs and moves toward the door of their large, spacious office. “Bro,” he says, shrugging. “Noctis talks about how hot you are _all the time_. Too bad you don’t like dudes,” he sticks out his tongue. 

Ignis just shakes his head. Prompto’s been trying to hook him up with various women for years now (or trying to convince him to _suck a dick, Iggy, just this once, I promise it’ll change your life_ ). He waves him off. “My PR photos of the Renoir exhibit, please, Mr. Argentum.” 

Prompto shrugs. “Suit yourself. We’re both good in bed, you’re missing out.” 

Ignis smirks and rolls his eyes, reaching for his breakfast. 

When Ignis descends to the first floor of the museum from his fourth-floor executive office, his head security guard, Gladiolus, falls into step with him as soon as the silver doors slide open. 

“Good morning, Gladio,” Ignis says with a small nod as he exits the elevator, making a beeline for the new exhibit. It’s just now nine o’clock, and there are already people queueing up in the lobby. Gladio’s sister Iris smacks her bubblegum as she hands people their entrance tickets, waving furiously as she spots her big brother and the curator. Ignis waves back. 

“Mornin’ Iggy,” the taller man says, nodding back and smiling, giving a small salute to his sister at the front desk. “Big day today, huh?” 

“Quite,” says Ignis, pushing up his glasses, steering them away from the main lobby. “Let’s take this shortcut, shall we? I want to look at the Vermeers this morning.” 

After Ignis takes his time making sure that the Vermeer section is up to snuff, they come to the middle of the new Renoir gallery; turning left, they find Prompto at the beginning of the exhibit, taking his time while photographing the artworks. 

“They’re even more exquisite in person,” Ignis sighs, looking at _The Luncheon of the Boating Party_. He steps up to it as close as he dares, actually closing his eyes and breathing softly. “The sheer _mastery_...” He presses a finger to his eye, not surprised to find a tear there. “My apologies,” he murmurs, turning to the other men. “His art is just...” 

Gladio smiles. “Don’t apologize, Iggy. I get ya. I don’t know that much about this stuff, but I do like looking at it.” 

“One needn’t be a museum curator to appreciate the fine arts, Gladiolus,” Ignis nods, turning to look at _Girls at the Piano_. 

“Let me go check in with my other guards, and I’ll be back in time for the papers, all right?” The hulking man pats him on the shoulder and wanders off, mouthing names into the radio at his collar, making them sound off their stations. 

Prompto whistles low as he watches Gladio retreat. “Damn. I hate to see him go, but I love to watch him leave.” 

“Please,” says Ignis, biting his cheek, moving to inspect _The Skiff_. “Do not ogle my security guards during business hours.” 

“Ugh but he’s just so _handsome_ ,” whines Prompto. “That face? Made for sitting on.” 

Ignis snorts as he moves with Prompto through the exhibit, watching the blond take pictures of all one hundred works in the new gallery. It’s actually filling up with people, now—Ignis smiles and makes small talk with a few regulars, excited to share his knowledge of Impressionism. He moves about the exhibit, absolutely buzzing with the energy of the patrons, ears burning with pleasure as he hears their muffled whispers and awed gasps of the late French master. 

This is what Ignis loves about art—it's for everyone, art student or construction worker, young or old, rich or poor. Every individual takes something different away from the same painting—that's the beauty of it, Ignis thinks. It’s the main reason why, when he’d taken over as head of the art museum seven years ago, he’d fought the city—and won—to make the museum completely free for anyone who lived in Lucis—natural-born or immigrant. Since the museum had been made a public service, uptick in foot traffic had increased over a thousand percent, something that Ignis was very proud of. And even though Prompto is young, barely two years out of college, his eye for art and his bubbly, charming nature is precisely why Ignis picked him to be the assistant curator. He trusts Prompto implicitly to make decisions on his behalf when Ignis is indisposed—and besides, when he gets too cheeky, Ignis can always send him to the alderman’s board meetings as punishment (which always earns him a threat, but never a follow-through, of silent treatment). 

It’s fifteen minutes til the broadcasted “official” opening with the media, and Ignis is standing patiently at the front of the new gallery, hand in one pocket and phone in the other, switching between social media and emails, when he hears a nervous cough and a quiet “Excuse me.” 

“Hm?” He looks up, and—record scratch. Ignis almost drops his phone, fumbling with it until it miraculously lands in his blazer pocket. 

A shorter, extremely curvy woman is standing in front of him, clutching a geeky messenger bag that would no doubt have Prompto talking her ear off. She tucks a lock of short _______ hair behind her ears and looks away, slightly blushing. 

Ignis feels his heart get stuck in his throat. “Ah, welcome!” he manages. “May I assist you?” 

“I, uh. Is this the new Renoir gallery?” 

Ignis smiles, feeling himself relax a little. “You are undoubtedly in the right place,” he says gently. “Do you have a question about a favorite piece? I’d be happy to show you.” 

“Oh, uh—no that’s okay, I’ll find it.” The woman flicks her pretty _____ eyes back up to his. “Thank you!” 

“Of-of course!” Ignis nods, gesturing to the first room of paintings. He turns back, facing outward, sighing in relief as the reporters come within his sights. 

“And in conclusion,” says Ignis, eyes transfixed on the reporters, “I am simply overwhelmed by the support of our country’s patrons of the arts. This exhibit is the largest single collection of Renoir’s work ever to be displayed since his passing. It has been five years in the making of my, and too many others to name, blood sweat and tears. I am extremely proud of this new gallery, and as always, the museum extends its invitation to every Lucian citizen. As you can see, we already have so many excited to view Renoir’s work,” Ignis continues, gesturing to the people moving in and out behind him. “No doubt that this shining example of Impressionism will inspire even more patrons to walk through our doors.” Ignis smiles and bows slightly as the cameras click in rapid fire; he looks directly into the tv camera as he stands up straight, giving what he hopes is his most dashing smile. “I invite all members of the press here today to view the exhibit for yourselves. Please photograph as much as you desire—for media use only, of course,” Ignis adds as the reporters and their camera crews chuckle. 

He steps to the side to let them through—Gladio and Prompto join him at his side as the press wanders into the first crowded room. 

“Great speech as always, Igster,” says Prompto, clapping him on his shoulder. “Whaddaya say we take a short break?” He checks his fitbit. “Damn, it’s eleven already. Time for tea?” 

“Going back to my office means having the free time to respond to the prime minister of Niflheim’s persistent phone calls about having the Picassos on loan,” says Ignis bitterly. “I agreed only in exchange for his collection of Dali and Rembrandt. He won’t relent, and neither will I.” Ignis sniffs and adjusts his glasses, then the cuffs of his blazer. “If Mr. Adlercapt cannot agree to my terms of a traveling exhibit exchange, then our Picasso collection is _not_ moving from the second floor. Not on my watch.” 

Gladio laughs deeply. “Damn, didn’t realize the fine art world had so much drama.” 

“Dude,” says Prompto, laughing. “Do you know how many gays run the art circles? It’s nothing _but_ drama.” 

Ignis bites back a laugh, shaking his head. “Unless you feel like negotiating with their Internal Affairs minister instead.” 

“Ugh,” says Prompto, shaking his head. “Loqi _sucks_. He’s such a kiss-ass. And he thinks his hair’s better’n mine.” He fiddles with his long bangs. “It’s _not_.” 

Gladio snorts and wanders off into the exhibit, making sure people aren’t taking photographs for personal use or trying to pull off a heist. 

“Well,” sighs Prompto. “I guess I’ll go work on the website, write up the full exhibit review, upload the photos...I might be gone the rest of the day, all alone and _starving_...” He blinks at Ignis with big puppy-dog eyes. 

“You want me to order Mama Bianchi’s again, don’t you,” sighs Ignis. It’s not a question. 

“Oh em gee,” says Prompto, bouncing as he holds his camera. “You’d do that for little ol’ _me_?” 

Ignis rolls his eyes and pushes Prompto away. “Go and work, please. We’ll have lunch in a bit.” 

Prompto skips away, punching the air with his fist. “Five meat calzone, here I come!” 

Ignis continues to move through the throng of people, finally getting past the first three rooms to the fourth and final room, which is smaller, with only fifteen paintings, compared to the nearly thirty in every other room. His eyes light up as he sees the curvy woman from before—she's holding up her phone, smiling brightly and holding up a peace sign as she takes a selfie in front of one wall of paintings. Ignis exhales slowly through his nose and approaches her with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but photography of the artwork for personal use is not allowed.” 

Her face falls, mouth open in shock and eyes widening in panic. “I’m--I’m so sorry!” she says. “I was just taking a selfie—I'm part of a fine arts enthusiast group on Moogbook and I posted that I’d be coming today and I just...I’m sorry. It was just a selfie.” 

Ignis’ lip ticks up at one corner. “Oh, I was aware.” And he goes out on a limb and winks. 

The woman turns as red as Matisse’s _Red Studio_. “Oh, I--” 

He can see the gears in her head processing the come-on, and he smiles wider. 

“Any-anyway,” she fumbles. “I can uh, delete it.” 

Ignis shakes his head. “It’s all right. I’ll allow the post.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks!” She looks back down at her phone and types, slipping it into her back jeans pocket when she’s through. “So you, uh, work here?” 

“Mmm, you could say that,” says Ignis, nodding. He gestures around to the Renoir paintings lining the walls. “Do you have a favorite?” 

She bites her lip and nods. “Uh, it’s this one.” 

Ignis follows her over to the adjacent wall, eyes widening as she stops in front of _Bather Gazing at Herself in the Water._ He looks from the painting to the woman—the approximate body size is nearly identical. Ignis feels himself overcome with emotion as he watches the pretty stranger gaze at the canvas. 

“It’s like...like I was born in the wrong century or something,” she sighs wistfully. “It’s like, back then, people who looked like me were the perfect subjects for art. But not now. I can barely find clothes my size in the store, I was teased mercilessly in school, everybody in movies or on magazines is airbrushed all to shit. What am I supposed to think about myself?” 

Ignis doesn’t know what to say. He’ll admit that he never thought about it that way before, but the fact that this woman doesn’t consider herself beautiful is breaking his heart. Ignis clicks his tongue. “That’s nonsense,” he says. “Were you born a hundred years ago, I would not have met you.” 

The silence is deafening—Ignis looks from the art on the wall to the stunned face of the gorgeous, fat woman beside him. Her plush mouth is agape, eyes wide. 

“Wait,” she says. “Are you...was that...?” 

“Would you like to get some tea in the third floor café?” asks Ignis, offering his arm. 

The woman looks at the _Bather_ one last time before turning to Ignis, nodding. “Sure.” She takes his arm, and Ignis goes warm with the feeling of having her pressed against his side. “Uh, my name is _________. ___________ __________.” 

Ignis smiles. “What a lovely name. My name is Ignis Scientia.” 

“Oh, that’s--hold on,” she says as Ignis escorts her across the lobby to the elevator. He pushes the _up_ button. “You’re the _curator_!” 

Ignis grins and leads her in, pressing the appropriate button. “Hm, I suppose I am.” 

“What...why are you...why me?” She asks, shaking her head. “You’re so...posh.” 

“Please,” says Ignis, chuckling. “It’s just the accent.” 

“It’s hot,” she mumbles. 

Ignis glances down to see her cheeks dusted pink yet again. He decides it’s a good look for her. “This, coming from a work of art,” says Ignis smoothly as the elevator slows and dings their arrival. 

Her head snaps up. “Are you pulling my leg right now?” 

“Of course not.” 

They walk around the large circle to trendy little eatery, where a few patrons are already eating lunch at some of the tables inside. The gift shop next door is full of children yanking their parents this way and that, begging for storybooks about Da Vinci and stuffed dolls of Van Gogh. Ignis smiles at the enthusiasm. He reluctantly relieves _________ of his arm, but he gestures her inside the restaurant, nodding to the hostess and the wait staff. 

“So,” says Ignis, once their orders are taken. (He doesn’t have to pay, naturally.) “You don’t believe me when I say you’re more beautiful than a Renoir?” 

She sips her water and shakes her head, swallowing. “I can certainly say I’ve never been hit on in an art museum before.” 

“A shame, truly.” 

“You think I’m pretty.” 

“I’m not one for tall tales,” says Ignis, smiling. 

“Holy shit,” ________ mutters. “Where have _you_ been all of my life?” 

“I’ve been here, waiting for you. And now you’re in my museum, where you belong.” 

The server comes and sets their hot teas and small plates on the table, and Ignis addresses them by name and says his thanks. 

“Do tell me how the hummus is. I’ve imported it from a family-owned business in Galahd.” 

___________ nods and scoops up the hummus with a warm pita chip, eating it in one big bite. 

Ignis thinks it’s probably the most adorable thing he’s seen, and he works with Prompto on the daily. 

“Oh gods,” she says, washing down the bite with a small sip of tea. “That’s the best hummus I’ve ever had in my life.” 

“I’m glad you think so. I’m rather impressed by it as well.” Ignis pours honey into his earl grey and stirs it, eyes fluttering closed as he sips. 

“So is this like, a daily thing for you?” _________ asks, readying another pita chip. 

“Beg pardon?” asks Ignis. 

“Like...taking girls on dates in your own museum café?” 

Ignis grins. “I can assure you that...” Before he can finish, his phone rings. “Ah, one moment, I’m so sorry.” He swipes the screen after digging in his blazer pocket. “Yes, Prompto?” 

“Bro,” comes the whine on the other side. “I’m _starved_. You ordered Mama Bianchi’s yet?” 

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry. I’ll call them as soon as I hang up with you. Forgive me, I’ve gotten distracted.” 

“Oh?” 

Ignis can’t see him, but he can imagine Prompto wagging his eyebrows like a dork. “Yes. You’ll be pleased to know that I’m on a date, of sorts.” 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

Ignis winces and holds the phone away from his ear, mouthing his apology across the table. 

___________ just laughs and waves it off. 

“Thank you, my dear assistant, for testing my hearing. I can assure you that it’s up to snuff.” 

“Iggy, my dude! You! On a date! It’s been _months_! I’m so proud of you! Wait—where are you right now? Did you leave? Why didn’t I know about this? It’s not in your calendar...” 

“Calm down, no need to get worked up. It was spur of the moment, and I haven’t left the grounds. We’re simply having tea and small plates at Michelangelo’s.” 

“What a cheeseball,” laughs Prompto. “Okay, I’ll let ya go. Please get me lunch, I’m working so hard up here.” 

“I’m sure,” says Ignis. “Ciao.” He hangs up, sighing. “My apologies again. That was my assistant curator, who’s desperate for a calzone.” 

“Mama Bianchi’s or bust,” ____________ says, drinking more tea. 

“Oh,” breathes Ignis. “I do believe you two should meet.” 

The woman across from him grins cheekily. “Damn, meeting the rest of the museum staff already. We’re moving pretty fast, huh?” 

Ignis raises an eyebrow and smirks. Oh yes. He’s found the _perfect_ piece of art—and he’s determined to keep her. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ignis meets the delivery driver from Mama Bianchi’s at the front desk of the museum and pays them handsomely, with a generous tip to boot. He then invites ___________ up to the fourth-floor executive offices to meet Prompto. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asks hesitantly. “You must be very busy, I wouldn’t want to interrupt...” 

Ignis waves his hand. “Nonsense,” he says. “I will make all the time in the world for you.” He stares at her pretty ______ eyes and basks in the blush that rises to her round cheeks. “Would you mind holding Prompto’s drink for me as we ride up?” 

“Oh, uh, sure thing!” 

Ignis draws his badge from his blazer pocket and scans it on the black pad beside the door, and the lock clicks open. He leads __________ past the initial waiting room, adorned with couches, a water cooler, a Keurig, and a small kitchenette, to another door, which is sitting ajar. There’s a blaring of pop-punk music coming from within. 

“Delivery,” says Ignis, walking through the door with the large plastic bag in hand, turning to take the drink from __________. 

“My herooooooo,” Prompto sings as he makes a few final clicks on the sleek Mac desktop, eyes widening in surprise as he sees the newcomer. “Oh, who’s _this_?” Prompto licks his lips and practically skips out of his chair and around his desk, bristling with excitement. “Ignis, is this your _date_? Holy shit!” 

Ignis rolls his eyes and sets Prompto’s lunch behind a large stack of papers. “This is Ms. _________ __________, who so nicely agreed to grab a bite with me at our café.” 

“You tried the hummus, right? All the way from Galahd, recipe’s been in the family for a hundred years, they say.” Prompto clasps his hands behind his back and walks around the woman. He flicks his eyes back up to Iggy and winks. “A regular Willendorf, Iggy, hot damn. Oh!” Prompto notices the pins and keychains on her bag. “Broooooooo, you play King’s Knight! We gotta be friends! And Sailor Moon, _what_!” Prompto turns to Ignis. “Dude. I couldn’t have picked a better person for you. She’s perfect! When’s the wedding?” 

Ignis coughs, heat rising to his cheeks. “You’ll have to excuse Prompto, ________,” Ignis sighs with exasperation. “He’s what we call a disaster gay.” 

Prompto laughs loud and extends his hand, shaking his head. “I’m really pansexual, but hey, if the Louboutin fits...” Prompto waggles his eyebrows. 

__________ laughs and takes Prompto’s hand, blushing. “It’s nice to meet you, Prompto. You’re the assistant curator?” 

“Bet your ass!” Prompto sashays back to his chair and flops down, reaching greedily for his lunch. “I do mostly our PR stuff, speak for Iggy and the museum if he’s out of town, filter in emails, your basic customer service stuff.” He shrugs, long slender fingers fiddling with the knot on the bag. “It’s a living.” 

“I don’t know where I would be without him,” says Ignis, smiling. “How’s the Renoir spread coming?” 

Prompto slurps his soda and smacks his lips. “Going great, Iggy! I should be done in another hour, hour and a half. Uh. After I eat this mozzarella-filled orgasm, of course.” 

Ignis chokes a little and shakes his head. “And yet, at the same time, I never know quite what to do with you.” 

“Let me guess, he’s a graduate of Highwind-Drautos School of the Arts?” __________ grins widely at Prompto, who winks. 

“Top of the class of ‘15, sweetheart,” Prompto laughs. “Howdja know?” 

“I went there for graphic design, but I guess I was a couple of years ahead of you. I just know an art school grad when I see one.” 

“Bro, what! That’s awesome! HDSA Alumni solidarity! I majored in photography but I double-minored in business and communications.” Prompto cuts off a piece of the calzone and bites into it, making a sinful moan. “Oh, gods, fuck me _up_ Mama Bianchi,” he says, slender freckled cheeks puffed out with food. 

Ignis snorts and turns to his new acquaintance. “Prompto Argentum, my assistant.” 

“He’s great,” __________ says, laughing. “I’m partial to Bianchi’s manicotti, but the calzones are a favorite, too.” 

“I’ll leave you to the digital Renoir exhibit,” says Ignis, nodding. “Any other business I should know about?” 

Prompto swallows and shakes his head. “Not yet, Igster. I’ve been answering emails and stuff, so we’re good. No one’s asked to go above me yet.” 

Ignis nods, grateful. “I suppose I’ll head back out to the museum, then. Do notify me if there’s any pressing business.” 

“Roger!” Prompto says, voice muffled around his mouth full of calzone. 

“So, graphic design?” asks Ignis as the descend the stairs to the third floor modern and local galleries. 

“Ah, yeah! I worked for a healthcare company for a while, doing their logos and stuff, but recently I just got on with a non-profit, and I do freelance stuff on the side. And fanart commissions, too.” ___________ stops, then backtracks. “Uh, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that...” 

“Hm?” Ignis raises an eyebrow as they enter into the large open room that houses several paintings by Fernando Botero. 

“I just, uh. You’re an arts museum curator. I suspect you look down on silly things like video game fanart.” 

Ignis shakes his head. “I am aware that I radiate a certain elitist aura, but truth be told, I recognize that art comes in many forms.” He smiles down at her, relieved at the relaxed look on her face. “I have quite a few artistic interpretations of movie characters and the like hanging around my flat. What else is the Renaissance paintings of the Astrals, the murals on the ceilings of the cathedrals in Altissia, but fanart of the _Cosmogony_ in Michelangelo’s interpretation?” 

___________ is stunned, jaw hanging open. “So you’re not gonna look down on me for drawing King’s Knight comics?” 

Ignis laughs out loud, green eyes shining with affection. “Absolutely not.” He grins and gestures around. “Behold, the Botero exhibit. One of my personal favorites of the modern galleries. We don’t have as many as I would like, seeing as he’s a Nothern Niflheim native, but they were so gracious to allow us these few pieces. I have traveled extensively in the region of Niflheim, however, and I must say, his paintings and sculptures are truly wondrous.” 

___________ looks around, eyes widening in awe. “Why, they’re all...everyone is fat!” She rushes up to one large painting, _The_ _Morning After_ , and gasps, staring. 

Ignis smiles softly and just stands behind her, hands clasped behind his back. He regards her as he would any other fine art painting—her wavy, shoulder-length hair; her curvy, plush waist and wide, dimpled hips; her fat, lumpy rear-end. He thinks back to Prompto’s reference to the _Venus of Willendorf_ and he feels himself blush. 

She turns after a few minutes, and Ignis rushes over, pulling out his silk pocket square. “There love—it's all right, are you all right?” 

She sniffs into the cloth and nods. “Sorry, I just...she’s so beautiful. And she looks like _me_.” 

Ignis looks at the Botero in front of them and not-so-subtly snakes his arm around her shoulder. He clears his throat, emerald gaze fixed on the painting. “I realize I am being bold in today’s endeavor, but...” Ignis nods his head towards the canvas. “That could be you, if you so desire.” 

There’s one final sniff—and Ignis thinks he might hear her mutter _Holy shit_ under her breath. Ignis turns to her, and she’s staring at him: face flushed, eyes watery, plush lips parted in surprise. And fuck, Ignis is only a man. The gravitational pull that causes him to lean down and press his lips tenderly against hers is something so beyond his control that Ignis feels dizzy with the rush he gets from it. 

She kisses him with a fierce hunger, eager to swallow him whole, completely intoxicated with the attention that Ignis has been giving her for the past hour. Ignis is drunk on her soft sighs and breathy moans. He pulls back from the kiss and rests his forehead on hers, exhaling slowly in an attempt to normalize his fluttering heartrate. 

“I must say,” says Ignis softly, lifting his hand to cup her round face. “I’ve never kissed a work of art before.” 

_____________ chuckles and shakes her head. “Hm, as a museum curator, I find that rather strange.” 

Ignis smirks. “Can’t say I go around kissing paintings as a habit. Who knows where the paint’s been?” 

_____________ laughs. “I can’t believe—I really can’t believe you just hooked up with me up in an art museum. Bam, just like that, like it was nothing.” 

Ignis stands to his full height, but his eyes don’t leave her. “I’m used to going after what I want. When I see a rare and valuable piece of art, I do everything in my power to secure it. I suppose that habit has bled over into my everyday habits, as well.” The incessant buzzing in Ignis’ pocket cuts him off, and he sighs as he draws it out. “My apologies.” 

“Oh, no, no! Don’t mind me.” 

Ignis gives her a small smile and swipes the screen. “Yes, Prompto?” 

“Iggy! Sonia from the Museo de Belle Arti in Altissia just called about arranging a travelling Da Vinci exhibit—a year in Lucis and a year in Tenebrae!” 

Ignis loses his breath for the second time today and clutches his heart. “My word—are you serious?” 

“Totes not kiddin’, dude,” says Prompto. “She said to call back at your convenience but I mean I definitely told her we were interested.” 

“ _Interested_ ,” laughs Ignis, shaking his head. “I’ve been trying to put the idea in Sonia’s head for _years_. I’ll be right there...yes, yes... _no,_ Prompto, that’s _private_...fine, yes. Goodbye.” Ignis hangs up and slips the phone back into the pocket of his crisp dress slacks. “I’m so sorry, darling, I have to run--” 

__________ nods, grinning wide. “I heard him—Da Vinci, here? That’s so exciting.” 

“To house the _Mona Lisa_ , even if only for a year...” Ignis inhales and exhales deeply, shaking his head in awe. “I can barely contain my excitement.” He digs in his other pocket and draws out a business card, handing it over to her. “That’s my personal cell phone on the back,” he says, green eyes shining with affection. “Would it be all right if I gave you a call after the museum is closed for the day? I’m afraid I’ve already taken too much of your time already.” 

She takes it and nods. “Oh, no, don’t apologize. Uh. I had a really good time.” She licks her lips. “I’ll text you, okay? So you have my number.” 

“Perfect.” Ignis leans down to steal one last kiss before turning on his shiny Oxford heel. “Please enjoy the rest of your visit. I look forward to seeing you again.” 

“Right, yeah,” __________ breathes, still in shock. She watches Ignis’ tall, lithe body walk out onto the balcony and hurry up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She looks back down at the business card, then back to Botero’s _The Morning After_ , and she gets hot under the collar all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all wanted more so uh, here's more! Please continue to leave feedback if you really liked this. <3 Love you guys so much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me tell you the universe was working AGAINST ME today like...I lost the first draft of this and then desktop Word kept changing my font and font size in the middle of my writing so like...I hope this is okay bc I'm TIREDT

The woman who exits the small townhouse in the quiet suburb is barely the one whom Ignis had met at the museum earlier that day. While she had been his own _Venus_ in skinny jeans and a frilly pink shirt, casual with a warm personality and soft lips, the woman who’s approaching his car is his very own femme fatale. She’s dressed in a tight black dress; black, low wedge heels that give her thick legs some lift, making her wide plush hips sway from side to side, and fuck—Ignis feels hot under the collar. She’s wearing a light brush of makeup, nothing too heavy, and her shoulder-length hair is curled into lush waves that bounce as she walks. Gone is the geeky little messenger bag, replaced with a large satin clutch sporting an oversized bow. Her jewelry is all silver and druzy stones, from her square earrings to the long pendant to the single bangle on her right arm.

Ignis swallows hard and bolts from his driver’s seat, rounding his sports car to open the door for her.

She approaches him, smiling softly. “Hey, uh—hey. Is this…do I look okay for where we’re going?”

Ignis has to make himself produce saliva in order to even talk properly. “You look divine,” is all he can manage, but it has the desired effect nonetheless.

__________ blushes hard and looks down at her feet. “Okay, good, I was—I didn’t know what to wear, I pulled this out of my closet at the last minute…” she chuckles a little, gasping softly as Ignis takes her free hand. “I almost bailed, y’know—not because you’re not amazing or anything, but because…nothing looked right on me.” She gazes up at him, tears in the corners of her copper-lined eyes. “You’re sure my body doesn’t turn you off?”

Ignis has to swallow hard as he shakes his head furiously, cupping her round face in his gloved hands. “Darling,” he says in what he hopes is his best persuasive purr, “you’re lucky I don’t take you right here and now in the middle of the street.” Ignis takes her parting lips as an opportunity to slot his own mouth against her own, smearing her lipstick like it’s a brand, so that others will know that she is _his_. He pulls back, taking her breath with him, as he gestures to the car. “We best get to dinner,” he murmurs as he gets lost in her awed gaze. “I’d rather make love to you in my bed rather than the hood of my car.”

Ignis has had to mute his phone, otherwise he knows Prompto (and probably Gladio) would be blowing him up all night, asking about his date. He’d made reservations at one of Insomnia’s oldest steakhouses—to anyone else, they would have been full, but for Ignis Scientia, there’s _always_ an open reservation. They’re seated in the very back of the restaurant, and there had already been the house wine waiting for them on the table. Ignis pulls out _________’s chair, helps her scoot up, and then removes his blazer, seating himself and taking a long sip of the chardonnay.

“Just what I needed after a long day,” he sighs in satisfaction, swirling the glass around and letting his eyes flutter closed. “Good wine, a beautiful woman on my arm…”

“Ignis,” _________ says, voice low. “The prices here, I can’t…it’s too much.”

“Nonsense,” says Ignis, cracking open an eye and smirking. “Order whatever you like.”

“Man, you really do live in a different world than I do, huh?”

Ignis shrugs. “If you choose to see it that way. I do try to live modestly, but I must admit that art and food are two of my biggest vices.” He smiles. “Really, _________. It’s all right. Please allow me to treat you.”

She licks her lips and sighs, nodding as she looks back at the menu. “I mean, I’ve never been here. What do you recommend?”

“The filet is exquisite, as well as the lamb.”

Their server approaches with glasses of water, bowing low. “Mr. Scientia, good to see you again.”

“Pleasure’s always mine, Monica,” Ignis says with a bright smile. “Allow me to introduce my companion for this evening, Ms. _________.”

Monica turns and nods her head. “Welcome to The Dualhorn,” she says. “Is this your first time?”

“Oh, um, hi. Uh, yeah, yes. I’ve never been here.”

“We’re glad to have you. If you have any questions at all, don’t hesitate to ask.” She looks at Ignis with a wink. “Have you decided? Mr. Scientia, your usual?”

Ignis nods. “That will be fine. Darling, do you need another moment?”

_________ hands the menu to Monica as she shakes her head. “I’ll try the lamb dinner, with the garlic potatoes and a side salad.”

“Of course. What dressing do you prefer?”

“The house vinaigrette is fine.”

“I’ll put that in right away. Your small plates will be out shortly.” Monica turns and makes her way to the kitchen to punch in their orders.

_________ looks at Ignis. “Appetizers? But we didn’t…”

Ignis chuckles as he sips his wine. “The bread and pâté come standard with every entrée. Is there something else you’d like? Their calamari is to die for, it’s brought in fresh weekly from Galdin Quay.”

“Oh, no, the bread is fine.” __________ takes a small sip of wine, eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, wow, that’s good.”

“It’s their own creation,” says Ignis, nodding in agreement. “They have their own vineyard.”

“I’m usually not a red person. I’m more partial to Moscato, but…yeah I could drink this on the regular.”

Ignis smiles at his date. “Your wine preference has been duly noted.”

She smiles and takes another sip, and Ignis feels weirdly jealous of the crystal glass, green eyes laser-focused on the lipstick mark on the rim. “Oh!” she pipes up, bringing him out of his thoughts. “How did the call with the curator from Altissia go? About the Da Vinci exhibit?”

Ignis’ eyes light up like a Christmas tree. “Oh,” he breathes, nodding. “Yes, well. There’s quite a lot of specifics to work out, but I think planning for the travelling exhibit could begin this fall, with the loan beginning in January of the new year.” Ignis bristles with excitement, and he has to place his wine glass on the table, wiping his sweaty palms on the napkin on his knee. “My apologies, I just cannot contain myself at the possibility of housing such valuable pieces of art. It would be like…like if we had the _David_ just casually resting in the second floor pottery display.”

__________ nods and smiles. “I really hope it works out. I’ve always wanted to see the _Mona Lisa_ in person, but…I’m broke,” she laughs. “There’s no way I’d ever get to go to Altissia.”

Ignis stops, cocking one eyebrow. “Would you like to go? Altissia is truly a stunning place. One needn’t even visit a museum to appreciate the art there.”

“Oh, you don’t—damn, you really know how to flex, huh?”

Ignis laughs at the term—it reminds him of his quirky assistant. Monica swings by the table to give them the appetizer and to refill their wine glasses, and Ignis assures her that they don’t need anything else. “I’m sorry,” says Ignis. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I visit the country nearly every month, I would certainly love to have you accompany me sometime.”

“Oh.” _________ processes his offer. “You really mean it? But I don’t even have a passport.”

Ignis waves his hand. “Easily rectified. Just think it over, yes?”

___________ takes a piece of bread from the porcelain platter and nods. “Uh, sure, yeah. I’ll uh. Let you know.”

________

The door barely clicks closed behind them before Ignis is spinning _________ around on her heels and threading his fingers through the back of her hair, gripping hard as he pulls delicious whimpers from her painted lips. He snakes his other hand around her waist and chances to dip a bit lower, squeezing at her wide ass, earning him a loud moan.

“ _Oh_ ,” Ignis breathes into her mouth. “The sounds you make are obscene, kitten.”

_________ gasps and desperately surges forward into his mouth again, biting his lower lip between her teeth.

A primal grow escapes from Ignis’ throat. “Follow me,” he whispers low in her ear as he pulls away and grabs her chubby wrist, pulling her behind him.

It’s a race to see who can get their clothes off first. Ignis finishes stepping out of his boxer briefs and folds them on the plush armchair in the corner by the bedroom door, and when he turns, he nearly melts.

__________ is standing there, dress and heels and shapewear pooled at her feet, back to him, and Ignis can see from her hand movements that she’s taking off her jewelry. Her clutch purse is on his bedside table, and as she removes the long necklace, placing it in a heap with her bracelet, watch, and earrings, Ignis comes up close behind her and sweeps her hair to the side, placing a gentle kiss at the nape of her neck, gripping her flabby upper arms in his hands.

She breaks out into goosebumps and Ignis is drunk on the power trip he’s getting.

“You are so sexy,” Ignis whispers into her skin, fingers dancing over her biceps, feeling the bumpy skin and smiling.

“Me?” she barks out a laugh, turning, eyes going wide as she drags her gaze over the curve of his collarbones and the solid muscle of his pecs. She looks down to see his hard cock, throbbing with interest, leaking, slightly curved to the right, long and thick. She looks back up at his face. “You’re the sexy one. Holy shit. I can’t believe…I can’t believe you want me like this.”

Ignis licks his lips and traces the outlines of her lacy black bra, settling one hand on her plump breast, squeezing hard. “Who _wouldn’t_ want you like this?” Ignis murmurs. He sinks to his knees and is met with a soft expanse of stomach, dimpled and striped with stretch marks, evidence of shaved hair above and below her navel. He leans forward and presses kiss on every inch he can reach squeezing lightly before settling both of his hands on her wide hips and fingering the edges of the lacy black underwear. “You are a vision,” whispers Ignis. “I gaze upon your canvas and beg you to let me paint upon it. You are the truest, highest form of art. My proper place is here, on my knees, worshipping at your altar.”

__________ stares down at him, lips parted in awe as she cups his jaw and thumbs under his eye. “I want you to ruin me.”

Ignis groans, cock straining with interest. How can he possibly deny a request like that? He rises and helps her out of her bra and underwear, heart stuttering wildly as he watches her soft, nude form climb onto his mattress. He follows her, sitting on his haunches between her thick thighs. “Like a true Renaissance painting,” he whispers low, dragging his fingers from the tops of her thighs to her ankles. “But I’m not sure anyone could capture your beauty, not even if one had all the talent of the old masters combined into one skilled hand.”

__________ is flushed, small chubby hands gripping his silk comforter, eyes squinted shut, ample chest rising and falling with stuttered breaths, bottom lip caught between teeth, tears at the edges of her eyes for the second time that night.

“Please allow me to taste you,” says Ignis as he bends both of her knees, spreading her dimpled thighs wide, licking his lips at he gazes at her core, hidden by a wild bush of hair.

“Please, _please_ ,” she begs, and that’s all the permission Ignis needs.

For all of her shyness and degrading self-esteem, __________ is _vocal_ in bed, and Ignis gets lost in her soft, wet pussy for what feels like an eternity, her high-pitched whines and breathy moans the sweetest symphony he’s ever heard. Her sweet juices flood his senses and Ignis drinks her down, hands gripping her fat hips as he holds her flush against the bed, losing himself as she comes _violently_ , grinding against his face. Ignis buries himself as deep as he can manage, tongue furiously lapping at her folds as her muscles flutter around him.

She whimpers high and loud, attempting once more to squirm away from him, and that’s when Ignis relents, pulling back to wipe his chin and his cheeks of her slick, spitting into his palm and stroking his rock-hard cock. He pets her knee as he purrs, “Are you ready for me, love?”

No words, just a furious nodding of the head and further spreading of her thighs, high pleading whimpers lodging themselves into Ignis’ brain forever. He shuffles forward and grips the base of his cock, teasing her entrance and shuddering at the sensations on his velvet head. It’s then that he has a sudden moment of clarity.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Kitten, I’m so sorry. Do I need to wear protection?”

Her eyes fly open and she shakes her head. “I’m on birth control,” she pants. “I haven’t…slept with anyone in a while…I really want you.”

Ignis nods. “I can assure you I am tested regularly. It’s been quite some time for me, as well.”

____________ smiles, reaching for his hand. “Then ruin me and let me feel you.”

Ignis takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles, gripping her tightly as he pushes the first few inches of his length into her.

Her other hand flies to her mouth and ___________ lets out her loudest scream yet, lifting her legs to wrap around Ignis’ waist and pull him closer.

“Oh, _gods_ ,” Ignis groans. How long has it been…a year, or more? It doesn’t matter—nothing matters, not when she opens up for him like the rarest of blossoming flowers, swallowing him whole. Ignis pushes until he’s flush against her, then drops her hand and braces himself over her. “ _Fuck,_ __________, you feel so bloody good,” Ignis mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrates on not coming immediately.

“You’re, _shit_ ,” she cries as she wiggles her wide hips. “You’re so _big_.”

Ignis inhales sharply as he drags himself out to the tip and pushes back in, and it takes a moment for him to realize that the primal moan hanging in the air between them came from his throat.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” she pleads, and Ignis obeys.


	4. Chapter 4

Ignis is waist-deep in emails already as he shifts under the blankets, lifting his steaming hot mug from the sleek bed desk and sipping the steaming Ebony dark roast. He feels oddly satisfied, the first time he’s felt this inner peace in recent memory. His phone buzzes and he answers  Prompto’s string of texts, only half of them pertaining to work—the rest are  winky faces and eggplant and peach emojis, which makes Ignis roll his eyes and snort into his coffee. 

Rustling, then, a sleep-crusted voice: “Goobmornin,” it sounds like, and Ignis feels warm and happy all over again. He sets his mug down and looks at the sleepy woman and smiles, reaching out to brush the messy hair from her face. 

“Good morning, darling,” Ignis purrs. 

She shifts to a half-sitting position, moving closer, careful not to upset his little desk. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly ten-thirty.”

“Oh shit. Wow. I didn’t mean to sleep so long. Um. I can go, if you need me to—I didn’t mean to keep you from the museum...”

Ignis waves his free hand, keeping the other entwined in her soft hair. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve worked from home. I think I deserve a day, yes? Unless you have pressing business, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

____________ shakes her head. “I’d taken a couple of days off, I had way too much vacation time. Yesterday was my first day, that’s why I was at the museum.”

Ignis smiles. “How fortuitous for me, then.”

She giggles. “Um,” she responds, shifting closer and drawing the sheet over her bare breasts, leaning her head on his arm. “ So like...are we going to do this again, or...” she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, this is so awkward for me. I’m not used to being swept off my feet like this.”

Ignis is a master at reading between the lines; he brings his arm around her shoulders and pulls her flush against his side, giving her a full view of his laptop. 

She sighs affectionately and pushes half her face into his side, kissing his bare skin, making Ignis shiver. 

“My apologies if I’ve been vague, __________,” says Ignis, leaning to kiss the top of her head. “Would you like a relationship with me?”

“I mean, yeah, if that’s what you want.” 

“I’ll admit that I’m usually very busy—I cannot promise all of my time, but what freedom I have will belong to you.” Ignis sighs. “My last few attempts at dating have been less than ideal due to such time constraints.”

_________ kisses Ignis’ soft, warm skin again and idly rubs her fingers over it, drawing soft circles into his lean stomach. “We’re both adults with jobs; I’m not going to begrudge you that. I can get pretty busy too sometimes. I’m willing to try if you are. I really like you.”

Ignis’ heart is slamming against his ribcage now as he swallows hard. “You already know how I feel about you,” he whispers softly. 

“Yeah?” She pulls away and sits up, letting the sheet fall to reveal her nude body, staring Ignis in the eyes. “I’m not just a one-night stand, promise?”

“Absolutely not,” Ignis says. “I would never...you are so lovely. My attraction, though instant, is very sincere.”

“Okay.” She nods, and wipes a tear from her eyes. “Sorry, I don’t mean to cry, I just... y’know .” She gestures down to her soft, lumpy form. “My self-esteem is shit, that’s all.”

“You’re beautiful,” says Ignis. “I won’t beat around the bush—that's never suited me. I am  _ highly _ attracted to not only your body, but your mind and your personality as well. I am excited to get to know you better.”

“Okay.” ____________ smiles, blushing and looking down. “Wow. I can’t believe it. I nabbed myself a  super hot boyfriend.”

Ignis chuckles as he looks back at his laptop and clicks around. “I beg to differ.  Surely you’re the hot one in this relationship.” 

_________ laughs flops back down against his side. “ So we’re just staying in today?”

Ignis nods. “If you like. I trust  Prompto wholeheartedly at the museum. Besides, there are some things that are better to do from home.” Ignis’ eyes light up. “Oh! I’ve also been working on restoring a painting. I’ve converted my third bedroom into a sort of studio—you're welcome to watch me later, if you like.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you restored artwork.”

Ignis nods. “It’s something I’ve been doing for years. If I get overwhelmed with paintings, I do have a few people I contract. In  fact, there’s about five paintings out of exhibit right now, getting restored. I’m almost finished with this one.”

“Yeah, I’d love to watch you work!” She pauses, clicking her tongue. “Uh, the only thing is...I only have the clothes I was in last night.”

Ignis lifts an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, uh...I mean I don’t mind staying naked all day if I’m just in bed, but...” She giggles. 

Ignis smirks. “I’m certainly not opposed to seeing you in the nude as much as possible, but I must admit that I’d be distracted.” He looks back at his laptop and purses his lips. “If we’re having a day in, why don’t we do some online shopping and have your purchase delivered?”

“Oh--Ignis—you've already bought me dinner, I couldn’t ask you to buy me clothes.”

“Is it illegal to want to treat my girlfriend?”

___________ blushes and shakes her head. “I don’t want you to—I mean...”

“It’s a money thing, isn’t it?” asks Ignis. “I can assure you I live pretty modestly—this apartment is paid for, and most of my budget goes toward food, clothes, and art.” He waves his hand. “I’m very comfortable, I can assure you.” 

She sighs in defeat. “Okay. I mean. I’m not like  _ broke _ broke , but...I definitely don’t run in the same circles as you.” 

Ignis threads his arm around her shoulders again, pulling her close and pressing a warm kiss to her lips. “Please. Let me treat you.”

She pulls back, eyes half-lidded and wet lips parted in awe. “Okay,” she says quietly. “But at least let me shop the sale section.”

Ignis smiles. “Deal.” 

Shaking her head, she takes Ignis’ laptop and opens up the web browser, typing in the name of a prominent plus-sized retailer in downtown Insomnia. “So. ..you can get stuff delivered same-day?”

“I have some connections, yes.” He gestures to the screen. “As long as it’s in stock in the store, we can call with the item product numbers and get them to cart it over.”

___________ nods, eyes wide with awe as she clicks to the website’s  _ Sale _ tab. 

_______

A couple of hours later, ___________ is dressed in some new leggings and an oversized tunic shirt from her favorite store, along with a new bra, underwear, socks, and sneakers. Ignis had done all of her laundry, even washing the dress she’d worn to dinner in addition to the new clothes so they won’t be itchy. After cooking a simple beef stew, where __________ had helped him chop vegetables and they’d spent most of the time laughing and talking and exchanging life stories; Ignis leads her back to his studio.

“Shit, it’s cold in here,” __________ shivers. 

“Apologies,” says Ignis. “I have to keep it that way for the paintings. The humidity only ages them more.” The overhead light is off, but Ignis moves to flick on the lamp that’s on the large square table in the middle of the room. He gestures to a chair and his new girlfriend sits, and he shifts everything to sit beside her, bringing around his supplies and the painting itself. 

“I’m about halfway through cleaning it,” Ignis continues. “If it’s no trouble to you, I’d like to try to get as far as I can this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah no, take as long as you need,” she says, smiling softly. “I’ve watched a few restoration videos on  Moogtube . I think they’re fascinating.”

Ignis grins. “I knew I’d picked a good one.” He hands her a disposable mask and gloves. “If you’ll put these on, darling—just to minimize oil and dust exposure.” He puts on his own protective equipment, then spends several minutes readying his supplies, plucking a  q-tip from a mason jar and dipping it into a solvent, settling comfortably into his chair. Ignis begins to rub it in small circles over the areas of the painting that are still darkened with wear, and the mood shifts into a breathless reverence as he gets to work in earnest. 

The rest of the afternoon and into early evening is nearly silent, yet pleasant—and Ignis finds that he’s enjoyed __________’s company much more than he expected, even though he’s usually very fussy about who’s in the room with him during his restoration process. After his eyes feel heavy and tired, Ignis leaves the painting be; and he packs her formal clothes from the night before in a small designer tote and drives her home, kissing her breathless on the stoop of her townhouse. 

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, this is really fun to write. Please comment and let me know what you think! :)


End file.
